


The Shirt

by lodgedinmythoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 14:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodgedinmythoughts/pseuds/lodgedinmythoughts
Summary: You have a fondness for your Captain America t-shirt. Someone else may just be fond of your wearing it.





	The Shirt

The first time you wore the shirt, it was because someone had accidentally spilled red wine all over the front of your dress during one of Tony’s parties. Afterward, when all that was left was the group congregated around the sofas, you’d come in wearing a baggy t-shirt bearing an image of Steve’s shield and sweatpants rolled at the waist many times over.

“Well, check you out,” Sam said as everyone turned to look at you, Tony on your heels.

“Had the right idea,” Natasha muttered as she took a swig of her beer.

You shuffled over to the sofa. “It was all Tony had that would remotely fit me.”

“Why do you have a shirt with Steve’s shield on it?” Natasha asked Tony.

“I’m just that big a fan,” he said offhandedly.

You sneaked a peek at the man whose symbol was in question. He sat on the opposite couch, his gaze turned to the floor. The corner of his mouth was just shy of being tilted up in that boyish smile you secretly loved, and you didn’t think you were imagining the slightly stiffened set of his shoulders. He looked slightly caught off guard, but you figured he would have been more accustomed to seeing his emblem everywhere by now, iconic as it was.

“Look suits you,” Sam said casually before taking a sip from his bottle. “You look right at home in that. Doesn’t she?” He nudged Steve, who had turned slightly red and seemed to be avoiding your eyes.

You scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Sam glanced at the others. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Subtle, Wilson,” said Clint from his place on the arm of the sofa.

You could hear several snickers from the others even as they turned their heads away like it would have made any difference. Not so keen to be the butt of the joke, you said, “What is going on?”

Tony took it upon himself to answer with that trademark glint in his eye. “You kids’ll understand when you’re older.”

  


* * *

  


Tony told you to keep the shirt.

“What, why, you don’t want it back?” You held out the clothes he’d let you borrow, neatly folded and stacked.

“Not like I’m ever gonna wear it. It’s leftover merch from that fundraiser thing we did last month,” he said, his attention on the latest device he was building. “However, I will take those sweats. Those are my comfiest pair and one of the few things I’m sentimental about. Don’t tell anyone.”

You were left standing there with a quizzical look on your face when he breezed past you and plucked the sweats from your hand, leaving you to catch the shirt in mid-air before it hit the floor. Unfolding it, you stared down at it as though it could’ve supplied you with the answers as to why everyone reacted so strangely to your wearing it. It was just a shirt. It was pretty much the same thing as wearing a shirt with Thor’s hammer or Tony’s suit on it. So why in the world was this any different?

  


* * *

  


In a conscious effort to avoid further being the butt of the mysterious joke, you opted not to wear the shirt again — though, you had to admit, out of all your t-shirts, the one with Steve’s shield really did look the nicest. It wasn’t your fault his shield was so aesthetically pleasing.

When you got back from a particularly trying day and entered your apartment on dead feet, you barely had the energy to change, doing so by grabbing the first shirt you could get your hands on. You fell into bed soon after, where you enjoyed a deep sleep that lasted uninterrupted till morning.

You were woken by the chirping of an incoming video call. Fumbling for your phone, you looked at the screen. Natasha.

“What’s up?” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and smoothed a hand over your hair.

“Nice shirt.”

You looked down at it and groaned. “What is it with everyone and this stupid shirt? It’s just a shirt.”

“Relax, I didn’t call to talk about what you wear to sleep. We’ve got another assignment. Pick you up at noon.” She waited for your lazy nod before ending the call.

At twelve o’clock on the dot, she rolled to a smooth stop with Steve in the passenger seat. “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping.”

“Funny,” you said as you got in the back.

“Do you make it a point to always have a line ready when you pick someone up?” Steve said as she peeled away from the curb. From your place in the back, you caught the pronounced shape of her cheek that suggested a smirk.

“So no idea what the mission is?” you asked.

“Nope,” she said. “But I’m sure they didn’t drag you out of bed for no reason. With any luck, you’ll be back in bed and in Steve’s shirt in no time.”

“What?” you and Steve blurted out in unison.

“Shoulda seen her, Cap. Looked as rested as I’ve ever seen her.”

“Ok, what is it with everyone and this damn shirt?” you said. “What, is it cursed? Contaminated? It seems like everyone’s in on some joke that I was left out of. Probably Steve, too. Do you have any idea what’s going on, Steve?”

“W-well.” He turned in his seat for a mere quick second so that you could see some of his profile. “I…no. I have no idea. And frankly, it’s getting old.” He directed that last part at Natasha.

“Oy vey,” she muttered. “A clue is what you two need to get.”

You glared at her from your seat while Steve pointedly fixed his gaze out the window.

  


* * *

  


You continued wearing the shirt, if only in private. It was too comfortable not to. And if you were being honest, you liked the way it looked on you. Before you knew it, it had become a staple in your wardrobe.

You were out for a jog one day when it started raining. Letting out a curse as the scattered, fat raindrops quickly turned into a heavy downpour, you looked around. You’d ended up in Steve’s neighborhood.

Deciding to drop by his place for temporary refuge, you ran in the direction of his building. You hoped he wouldn’t mind if you came by unannounced, if he was even there.

Thankfully, he was. By the time you made it to his building, you were drenched from head to toe. After he buzzed you in, you made it up to his door, wiping the moisture from your face with the sleeve of your zip-up hoodie as you went. You knocked on the door and when it opened, you were met with the sight of Steve in a plain blue t-shirt and jeans. In his left hand was a towel. He took in your drenched state and appeared to be holding back a laugh. With a mock glare, you stepped inside.

“Hello to you, too,” he said with a suppressed grin, turning to face you once he shut the door. He tossed you the towel and you caught it easily.

“Thanks. For this.” You held up the towel before using it to dry off your hair. “And for letting me in. Didn’t expect it to rain.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been caught in a few storms myself. Would you like something to drink? Water, maybe? If what you have currently soaked through to your skin isn’t enough.” He moved to the kitchen.

“Funny, Rogers.” You followed, settling into one of the barstools as he rummaged through the fridge. You set the towel in your lap as you unzipped your hoodie and peeled it off, glad to rid your skin of that smothered, sticky sensation. Wondering where you could hang it, you twisted around in search of a coat hanger or something of the sort. “Hey, do you have a hanger—”

You stopped when you turned mid-sentence to find him facing you, his eyes settled below your neck. You did a quick take down at your shirt. You only just remembered which one you’d thrown on.

Then, as if he were breaking out of a trance, Steve promptly lifted his gaze. Without a word, he set a can of soda down in front of you. You knew you weren’t imagining the way the tips of his ears were tinged with red.

The scrape of the can as you dragged it across the counter rang out, the only other sound the heavy rain as it beat against the windows. “Thanks.”

He gave a single succinct nod, leaning a hand against the counter. “Want me to take that for you?” He nodded at your soaked hoodie.

“Sure.”

He took it off your hands when he circled the counter and moved to the mounted coat hanger next to the door. You twisted in your seat to watch, allowing yourself a brief moment to admire his figure before quickly looking away in private embarrassment.

Taking far greater care than it required, Steve hung up your jacket, and you knew he was stalling before he had to turn back around. You bit your lip in uncertainty. What you did next could’ve changed everything.

“Steve?”

The top half of him turned before he answered. “Yeah?”

“Can you…come here?”

He paused, unsure of how to respond. You slid from your chair and took slow steps forward, stopping somewhere in the middle.

“Steve?”

His feet turned so that he faced you fully, and what you saw in those eyes was something you could only describe as restrained longing. Time stood still, and you gave him a shy smile in return.

Then, in a surreal moment you were sure would be etched into your memory even when you were old and gray, he was crossing the distance, landing in front of you, and cupping your face with his hands, his lips descending to meet yours.

The kiss was achingly sweet. It warmed your every nerve and set your heart on fire. It comforted and encompassed you and even threatened to bring tears to your eyes. How you’d gone that long without knowing that part of him, you didn’t know.

You were smiling like a fool when he pulled away, but so was he. His thumb caressed your cheek, and then he was leaning in for another kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for way too long,” he said, and you delighted in the rumbling of his chest as he spoke.

“I think I have, too,” you said in a faraway voice, as though you were in a dream. You rested your hands on his chest. “Now tell me. Does all this have anything to do with this shirt?”

He shook with quiet laughter, ducking his head. When he came back up, your breath stopped short as you were transfixed by the unconcealed adoration in his eyes. That up close, they were even more arresting than you could have imagined.

“That shirt has my shield on it,” he said, humor in his voice.

“Yes…”

“That shield is linked to me.”

You squinted your eyes as you tried to follow him. You felt you were nearly there, but you just needed a slight push. “Right.”

“And when you wear that shirt, it’s like you’re wearing…me.”

_Oh, Lord have mercy._

He ducked his head again, this time to catch your eye as it wandered unseeingly over his larger frame tucked against you. “It drives me crazy to see you wearing this shirt because it almost makes me think you could be mine. My girl.”

For the sake of your sanity, he had to stop talking.

“I think we’re a little past ‘almost’ here, Rogers,” you said.

His brow tilted up in hopeful confusion.

“Your girl. I wanna be your girl. And you can be my guy.”

His smile could have lit up the entire city. “As long as you continue to go around wearing that shirt. It’ll be between you and me. A tiny display, if you will.”

You weren’t sure you’d ever felt as happy as you did in that moment. “Deal.”


End file.
